“Ten years, Jack—it’s a long time ahead. We have got to deal with things as they are to-day. And to-day——”
“I’m nothing!” he said, bitterly.
She looked up at him.
“You are just a promising young man fresh from college, Jack! With a big future before you, I am sure of that—but it’s only a future!”
“I’ve started, anyway!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got that job on the Rostrum—begin next week. And I’m going to make good!”
“Of course you are—but—we can’t marry on your pay as a very junior sub-editor.” She shook her head again. “We must be reasonable, Jack. If I saw any chance——”
“Yes,” he interrupted, brutally, “if you saw any chance of my driving you about in six months’ time in a big motor-car like James Arrowsmith’s—then you would condescend to love me!”
She stood up, her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, don’t, Jack!” She turned away her head, pressed her hand to her eyes, dropped it in a hopeless gesture. She faced him again, her sensitive mouth quivering at the corners, her expression appealing from misery to compassion. Evidently, she hardly dared trust herself to speak. “You know I love you!” Her voice caught, almost broke. “You know I love you now—shall never love any one else. All my life I shall remember you—if I live fifty years——”